Prologue
Prologue: Four Invitations
The email didn’t look like much.
Subject line: Eastbrook Community Revival Initiative Sender: City Development Office Attachment: Mandatory attendance.
Four people opened it. Four very different reactions.
Malcolm Bishop
Malcolm didn’t sigh when he read it.
He also didn’t smile.
He read it once. Then again. Then he checked the sender, as if it might somehow be optional the second time through.
It wasn’t.
He set his phone down on the glass desk, fingers tapping once against the surface.
“A community center,” he muttered.
From across the room, Isabelle looked up from where she lounged on his couch, legs crossed neatly, posture effortless.
“That sounds… rustic,” she said, tone light, already dismissive.
“It’s city-backed,” Malcolm replied. “They want investors involved early.”
She tilted her head, watching him more than listening. “So you’re going.”
“I don’t decline city requests.”
She smiled—slow, calculated. “Then I suppose I’m going too.”
Malcolm didn’t answer that.
He was already opening his calendar.
Jessica Wright
Jessica gasped.
Actually gasped.
“Chris!” she called, half-laughing as she spun in her chair, phone clutched in her hand. “Chris, come here—right now.”
From behind the counter, Christopher didn’t rush. He wiped his hands on a towel, took his time, and walked over like he expected chaos.
“What happened?”
She shoved the phone at him.
“Read it.”
He scanned. His brow lowered almost immediately.
“City project,” he said. “That’s not usually a good sign.”
Jessica grinned, undeterred. “They want ideas. Real ideas. From people who actually use the space.”
“They say that,” Chris replied. “Then they ignore it.”
“Not if we don’t let them.”
He glanced at her, then back at the phone.
“You’re going, aren’t you?”
She beamed. “Obviously.”
He sighed, already losing the argument. “Then I’m going too. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t accidentally volunteer to run the whole thing.”
She bumped his shoulder. “I could run the whole thing.”
“I know,” he said dryly. “That’s the problem.”
Christopher Christ
He didn’t trust it.
Didn’t trust the wording. Didn’t trust the timing. Didn’t trust that the city suddenly cared about a building they’d let rot for years.
But Jessica was already in.
And that meant he was in.
He leaned back against the counter, arms folding, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Rich people are gonna be there,” he said.
Jessica didn’t even hesitate. “Probably.”
“They’re gonna talk like they know what people need.”
“Probably.”
“And you’re gonna argue with them.”
She smiled wider. “Definitely.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I’m coming.”
Isabelle Jacobsen
She didn’t open the email.
Not at first.
She watched Malcolm read his, watched the shift in his posture—the way his attention narrowed, focused.
That mattered more than anything written on a screen.
When he mentioned going, that was enough.
She picked up her own phone, skimmed just enough to understand the setting, and then set it aside.
“A community center,” she said again, this time softer, almost thoughtful.
In her mind, she was already planning outfits. Appearances. Positioning.
Not the project.
Never the project.
The Meet & Greet
The Eastbrook Community Center smelled faintly of dust and old paint.
Folding chairs scraped against the floor as people shifted, murmuring quietly. A long table near the wall held coffee, bottled water… and a tray of cookies that looked surprisingly fresh.
Jessica made a beeline for a group of older women near the back.
“Hi,” she said easily, like she belonged there. “Do you come here often?”
Christopher stayed a step behind, watching the room instead of joining the conversation.
At the front, Malcolm stood with the coordinator, skimming a printed packet.
“We’re hoping for practical solutions,” the coordinator was saying. “Sustainable ones.”
Malcolm nodded. “Of course.”
Isabelle stood beside him, her attention drifting—until she noticed Jessica laughing across the room.
Her gaze lingered.
It didn’t take long for the four of them to be pulled together.
“Malcolm Bishop,” the coordinator said, gesturing. “Jessica Wright, Christopher Christ, Isabelle Jacobsen—you’ll be working as a team.”
There was a pause.
A small, telling pause.
Jessica smiled first. “Hi. I’m Jessica.”
Christopher gave a short nod. “Chris.”
Malcolm extended his hand, polite, composed. “Malcolm.”
Isabelle followed, her smile perfect. “Isabelle. Lovely to meet you all.”
Her eyes flicked briefly to Jessica.
Assessment. Calculation.
They gathered around a folding table.
Silence hung for half a second too long.
Jessica broke it.
“So… what do you think this place needs?”
Christopher leaned his elbows on the table. “Hours that make sense. People work. This place closes before they’re even off.”
Malcolm nodded slightly. “That’s an operational issue. Fixable.”
Jessica looked at him, curious. “What would you do?”
“Assess funding, staffing, demand. Build a structure that supports itself long-term.”
Christopher’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. That sounds like a report, not a solution.”
Malcolm’s gaze shifted to him, calm but sharper now. “It’s both.”
Isabelle stepped in smoothly, voice light. “Well, none of that matters if no one wants to be here. It needs to look appealing. Clean. Modern.”
Jessica tilted her head. “People already want something. They just don’t feel like this place is for them.”
Isabelle smiled, but it didn’t warm. “People want what they’re shown.”
“And they stay where they feel welcome,” Jessica replied, just as gently.
Christopher huffed under his breath. “Exactly.”
Malcolm watched the exchange.
Really watched it.
Then, almost to himself— “So… we’re talking function, sustainability, and environment.”
Jessica glanced at him, surprised. “…Yeah. I guess we are.”
He nodded once, more certain now. “Then we’ll need all of it.”
Isabelle’s hand slid lightly onto his arm. “Or we could just focus on what actually matters.”
His gaze didn’t leave Jessica.
“All of it matters.”
Across the room, someone announced the start of the session.
Chairs scraped. Voices rose.
Jessica leaned forward slightly, energy buzzing. “This is going to be good.”
Christopher muttered, “This is going to be something.”
Isabelle reached for a cookie, examining it before taking a delicate bite. “At least the snacks are decent.”
Malcolm didn’t move right away.
For the first time since walking in, he looked… interested.
And just like that—
They were a team.
Whether any of them liked it or not.
